


Severed Sparks

by MadamMassacre



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Damaged Spark, Medical Examination, Other, Post Galvatron/Cyclonus, Ratchet Being Curious, Spark Bond, Spark Mates, Transformers Spark Bonds, after the bomb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 15:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamMassacre/pseuds/MadamMassacre
Summary: Ratchet has never considered himself very nosy. But, when there's an oddity in a spark, that's hard to look away from. Especially when you're a chief medical officer and you're not entirely sure what you're looking at. Because for once, this is something new, something interesting and really it's hard to look away.





	Severed Sparks

It had always been one of his most routine procedures. One he's always done after a frontal blast from any sort of incendiary device. One that has saved countless lives after the first time he ever began doing the said procedure. That being; always check the patient's spark chamber while he is unconscious to check for any trauma that may lead to a sudden spark failure. But not once, in all his years of practice has a patient sprung to life as sudden as that.

In fact, Ratchet had barely even begun to inspect the chamber when this bloody purple not-Decepticon jerked into consciousness. Coughing and choking like a drowned organic. It was...Primus awful if he had to describe it and Ratchet will fully admit it had been one of the more frightening experiences he's had in his lifetime. But by the pit, it took over two whole canisters of sedation fluids to get the damned bot back to an unconscious state.

He had to sit down and calm himself from just knocking the ancient aft in the helm after that. But alas, he's a doctor, and it would be entirely unprofessional of him to do something so reckless to someone who might actually die from it. Although perhaps it wouldn't hurt to tighten a couple bolts a little too tight.

Ratchet shook his head, readjusting a couple warped panels that had just attempted to close him out from the spark. It must have happened out of instinct or even some sort of muscle reflex. Either way, it didn't matter. He wasn't about to change his checking habits just because of a freak awakening.

Fully removing a faulty coupling from the inner panel Ratchet then continued on with his task. The spark casing was slightly warped he'd found upon opening the outer plating. In fact it was a tidbit fractured on one side. Thankfully it was only on the seam where the two pieces slid together. (A very common attribute among warrior models.) He'd have to either remove the piece or try and solder it back together. Although to determine which he'd do he'd have to first make sure that none of the splinters had slipped into the spark.

Looking at a spark, at someone else's spark, is usually reserved for amica and conjunx but for a medic. It's just one more component to be inspected that's particularly fragile and important. Although he will fully admit he tries not to stare.

But, when there's an oddity in a spark, that's hard to look away from. Especially when you're chief medical officer and you're not entirely sure what you're looking at. Because for once, this is something new, something interesting and really it's hard to look away.

Dark, long, jagged and thin. Reaching from nearly the top of the spark to almost the end of it. Giving it a nice scar-like look. It's strange and yet oddly familiar. He can’t help but feel he’s seen something like this before. Taking an explorer from the table and gently running the tip over, he tries to get a good idea what in fact it could be. Sparks and electrical currents crawl up the metal object as the mark remains unresponsive. As if that particular spot is burnt out in the spark. If so, meaning that it’s unstable and probably needs to be hooked up to a monitor to figure out what exactly would be causing it to destabilize in such an odd manner.

Ratchet manages to keep a steady hand as he shifts the tool over to the edge of the strange mark and is suddenly met with a screech that quickly becomes a growl as a clawed servo grips his wrist. An awake and extremely groggy Cyclonus is glaring at him. Or, really trying to, his optics appearing to have zero focus at the moment if the lenses are any indication.

Ratchet hastily removes the explorer and detaches Cyclonus's rather loose grip on his wrist. The arm dropping to the table with a loud crash as the purple bot tries to move.

Ratchet only watches before the mech falls back into oblivion. He then recalls what in fact this little oddity is. For once, he's a little stunned by the answer. A severed spark bond. It's been nearly four million years since he's seen one of those. No wonder he didn't recognize it, and, he supposed, he shouldn't be too surprised to find one lingering in Cyclonus's own spark. But he can't help but wonder...who? Ratchet will fully admit, despite his uncaring and practically antisocial, grouchy exterior he is a curious mech.

He's seen a billion faces come and go and he still has questions that he'd like answer from a couple thousand of them. No matter how illogical they may seem. But he feels this is one question he will never get an answer to. So, with that, he closes the spark chamber and continues with his repairs. Just another day.

…

Ratchet will never consider himself nosy. Not even after the quiet if not unheard inquiries that go to his terminal say otherwise. Not even when Ultra Magnus inquires his search history that shows up in the server that he was alerted about earlier that day. He’s not nosy, he’s just… curious. He has his speculations and perhaps he just really wants to know if he’s right.

So, here he is, tinkering with a piece of a joint while half-heartedly looking through the public database for royal bondages. Ratchet, and most of the crew, are aware of Cyclonus’s heritage. Heck, quite a few bots in existence know of Cyclonus of Tetrahex. More in the sense of his not-Decepticon activities, but there are a few who know of some history… Rewind for example. The shadow of the Great Galvatron… bodyguard and enlist in Cybertron elite. One of the original seeker types if he’s not mistaken. Someone that important, even if it be the lesser of the important, would have surely been given a public eye into their conjux. Amica even.

But, unfortunately, there’s nothing. There are mentions of him being present at important events that involve binding of two diplomats or royals or what have you. But there’s nothing, no announcement no ceremony, not even a footnote. He would have considered that Cyclonus had a twin spark if not for the fact that he’s certain that even if the twin died it wouldn’t leave a mark like that. His subtle inquiries to Rung about the subject have been less than such. The bot may have a bunch of Ark models but the crew not so much.

Tossing the unrepairable appendage across the darkened room Ratchet huffs. Resting his chin the in the palm of his hand. He knows he shouldn’t be obsessed, it’s not that interesting anyway, but the thought that someone like Cyclonus has had a spark mate seems too far-fetched to truly grasp. The medic glares at the wall before returning his gaze back to the screen, scrolling through old images. Each with the purple mech present standing not quite in the front but just close enough to be acknowledged. 

He scrolls to the bottom and to the top repeatedly, wondering if he dares to ask Rewind if he has any history on such a topic. He pauses as he comes across the same picture he’s looked at five times before, skimming the article beneath. It’s at the announcement of the crew that would partake in the exploration that would soon, unbeknownst to them at the time, turn to a living hell. An odd thing to think about. Ratchet glares at the image of a near godly looking Nova Prime standing in front of the high ranking crew behind him. Such a foolish and greedy creature, it’s a good thing he’s dead now…

But, just as soon as he’s about to close the window Ratchet notices something. It’s easy to look over things when you’re focusing on finding something particular, especially when you’re looking in all the wrong places. The medic’s optics widen, the brim almost overflowing with the glow they’re giving off.

There, beside Galvatron as he is always stationed and next to Scourge is Cyclonus. Optics looking away from the camera, distracted by something in the distance as if this is one of the most mundane things that has ever happened to him. Scourge is smiling at the camera with such an amount of glee that Ratchet would never peg the seeker for having. Galvatron seems less than pleased with his subordinate’s chosen emotion, choosing to remain composed and keeping his head held high. His servo though, that’s what’s fascinating. Delicately intertwining with a similar pair of white digits, indistinct if not for the sharpened tips. Ratchet nearly yells with surprise or confusion, he’s not even very sure.

Only stopping because he’s more dignified than that. But there, passively looking through the screen at him is his answer. Galvatron, the self-proclaimed driven by a higher destiny bucket of bolts. Ratchet only stares longer. He’d guessed Scourge; he’d even guessed Arcee out of a long shot but Galvatron? Sighing, Ratchet finally closes the window. Running a servo down his face, for the love of Primus…  
Blatantly, Ratchet wonders how recent that bond was severed. He doesn’t dwell on it too long.

…

It’s not too long, or at least it seems to be, after they get Megatron on board that they get word that Galvatron’s been offed. Shot through the spark and head torn off. He’d never thought Prime to be that thorough… or violent for that matter. But he does notice the slight twitch of Megatron’s frame at the gruesome description of his replacement’s death. Internally, Ratchet can’t help but laugh at it. Bucket-head better be afraid. 

Later then, subconsciously he supposes, he realizes he’s starting to notice Cyclonus more and more. A force of habit if he were to guess. Watching for signs of spark deterioration, malfunction, anything interesting really. He can’t help but be fascinated; he didn’t get to be Chief Medical Officer by not having a tad amount of medical curiosity in him, even it is a bit grim. So far, he’s noted that the ‘specimen’ seems to be carrying himself differently. Not the kind of differently like someone who’s depressed but more like someone who’s torso has been shot through and through.

Then there came the meddling… bots need to be looked at every once and a while. Whether they like it or not and the list that Ratchet had set up when they first started this quest has been added to and tinkered with a little. Enough where he may have bumped up Cyclonus to a higher point in time. All in all when his ‘specimen’ didn’t show up for the third reschedule he sent a friendly reminder that if he were to fail to arrive the fourth time, he’d be escorted to the med bay. Escorted he was. Whirl happily volunteered to bring Cyclonus in. Somehow, the chopper got him in quietly. Although, it wasn’t until Ratchet realized that there was a loaded rifle pointed at the jet’s back did he figure out how.

And so, the examination commenced. Ratchet has always prided himself on his ability to be thorough yet discreet. Some of the grouchiness tends to hide some other things. Like examining bits that aren’t part of the normal procedure but barking about how they have flaws. It tends to work but more with bots who are intimidated by him. Which would be most. It’s unfortunate that Cyclonus, he’d assume, is used to more ‘insane’ physicians. Jhiaxus was a genius but with that intelligence came a side of nuts. Well, more like a whole second course but that’s setting him next to a whole ward of crazy.

Fortunately, Ratchet found he didn’t have to use the grouchy technique. A bit of energon did that for him. Specifically, some that was leaking its way through Cyclonus’s chest plates. Of course, the jet obliges Ratchet’s demands, albeit begrudgingly but he still obliges either way.  
When he sees the spark for the second time he notes the size of the mark has grown bigger but instead of drooling at the sight of it he keeps his composure. Politely asking if he could inspect the damage further. The glare he receives would have mutilated and killed less seasoned mechs, Ratchet has been well seasoned since half way through the war. You can ask anyone who’s ever held him at gunpoint.  
He determines that it’s more of a type of tear than anything, bonding reasons aside. Tissue that has stitched itself back together quickly but not quite as quick as it should be. Ratchet doesn’t comment on what it is, even if he’s very aware of a lot of it. He can’t help but wonder how far you can severe a full one spark bond. Judging by how much the damage spread, he would guess not as much as Cyclonus would have liked.

As Cyclonus gets up off the table and closes his chest plates he glares out of the corners of his eyes at Ratchet. A burning question in the back of his mind that Ratchet knows well. Perhaps, really, two, if this medic knows of what he has just looked at and if he knows who. Ratchet knows both of the answers it’s whether or not he wants the bot sitting next to him to know that he does. 

“Well, doctor?” Cyclonus drones, accent heavy.

“Well, what?” The medic responds, keeping his back facing the Tetrahexian and putting in glyphs on his datapad.

Cyclonus’s silence gives him little answers or feedback. Ratchet sighs internally, “I haven’t told anyone if that’s what you’re asking.” He remains silent at this, knowing that no threat would every get to the bot before him. Cleared to leave, he exits quietly, new people he has to keep an optic on fresh in his mind.

The inspection is over within an hour and Ratchet’s curiosity is more or less satisfied. He is left wondering if he could have created something to fix some of the damage that had been done to the spark without a CR chamber. He’s certain that there really isn’t. No one has ever really tampered with bonded enough to really know what or how to fix a damaged one. And, although he happens to be the bot to probably be able to make something like that he’s not that… invasive. But, just in case he has started something of a secret note sheet on the subject. And, just maybe as recompense he’s given Tailgate a couple of energon goodies he knows he’ll share with Cyclonus.

He’s not that sparkless.  
…

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know, I started something else. But in reality, I started this a long time ago and just never posted it and it's pretty late since the comic has been out (and ended) for a while but I still really like this.  
> So, thanks for reading if you did and have a wonderful day.


End file.
